‘He has my daughter! The monster has my daughter!’

This is the first thing they hear, even before their eyes adjust to the light. Polly’s heart begins to pound. She would know that horrible voice anywhere.

‘Look, look, right there! The monster has my daughter!’

Polly looks up to see a swarm of witches advancing towards them up the steep slope of the mountain. Leading the pack, as Polly knew she would be, is Mrs Halloway, her snarling face more terrifying than ever.

Polly looks towards Buster and sees how the scene might look to the advancing witches. Malorie is slung over his back, clearly hurt, and Buster is loping clumsily towards them, his face twisted with exhaustion.

‘That monster has my daughter!’ Mrs Halloway screams again. ‘I told you monsters were dangerous and you wouldn’t believe me. And now look what’s happened! He’s hurt her! Look! The monster’s hurt my daughter!’

For a moment, Polly sees a look of genuine concern come over Mrs Halloway’s face, as if she has always known that Buster could never really hurt a witch, and is surprised to see that this time, perhaps he has.

This, more than anything, makes Polly seethe with rage. How dare that horrible, scheming witch blame Buster! How dare she attack him and chase him and spread lies about her dearest friend! Polly decides she doesn’t care anymore if she is expelled from school for doing spells. She doesn’t care if what she is doing is right or wrong or somewhere in between. She won’t listen to Mrs Halloway attack Buster for one more minute.

Her chest fills with heat and she draws her arms up into the air. But before the hot wind fills her, Malorie’s voice rings out, loud and clear.

‘Stop! Ma!’ she calls out. ‘Stop, everyone! You’ve got it all wrong.’

Deidre Halloway continues to run towards them, but the other witches slow for a moment to hear what Malorie has to say.

‘Ma! Stop!’ Malorie calls out, louder this time. Her mother reaches them and tries to pull her daughter off Buster’s back. Buster shrinks away from her.

‘Get off her!’ Deidre shrieks. ‘Let go of my daughter!’ She turns to the other witches to seek assistance.

They are hovering uncertainly, unsure of what is really going on and why they were called so urgently to the mouth of the mine, when at this time of night they would normally be at home cooking dinner and preparing their children for bed. In the pink, fading light of the day, Buster looks so exhausted and pitiful it’s hard to see how he could seem frightening to anyone.

‘Help me!’ Deidre Halloway hollers again. ‘Prisquet! Bordree! Strike him down! Do none of you have your wands on you?! Can’t you see the monster has my daughter?’

‘Ma, stop it!’ Malorie says, angrily now. She slides off Buster’s back and winces as her injured foot touches the ground. ‘That’s enough!’

Then she looks over her mother’s shoulder, eyes blazing, towards the approaching witches, who are muttering among themselves. Many of them have children at Polly and Malorie’s school. Polly recognises the mother of one of Malorie’s friends, Willow Leafly, in the huddle.

‘Aren’t you ashamed?’ Malorie yells. ‘All of you! Look at him! Does this look like a monster who would hurt anyone?’

Buster shrugs uncomfortably and gives the witches an awkward wave. His fur is matted and his back is bruised, but the kindness of his heart still shines out of him.

‘Buster has never done anything bad to me,’ Malorie continues, despite the terrifying look of rage spreading over her mother’s face. ‘Or anyone!’ She turns away from her mother and her voice stays steady and true.

Polly feels a surge of awe watching Malorie stand up to her mother like this. She has faced wild monsters, nasty witches and even scary ghosts over the last few days, but in truth, Polly couldn’t imagine anything in the world as frightening as standing up to your own mother. She feels a newfound respect for her classmate, who had been almost her friend until the whole Witches Against Monsters thing had got so out of hand.

Malorie limps slowly towards the gaggle of witches, her face crimson with fury. ‘It’s not the monsters you have to be afraid of,’ she yells at them. ‘Can’t you see? It’s my mother. My mother is the only bad one here!’

All the witches gasp. Even though they heard these exact same words from Polly only the night before, somehow hearing them from Deidre Halloway’s own daughter makes the witches finally stop and truly listen.

‘Malorie!’ Deidre snaps. ‘That’s enough!’ She turns to the other mothers, her voice twisted with embarrassment. ‘My daughter is obviously not well. She must have hurt her head when she was in the mine. Or … or …’ Polly sees her searching desperately for something to convince them. ‘Polly did a spell on her! That’s what happened. That monster-loving witch brainwashed my daughter!’ She steps forward to pull her daughter towards her, but Malorie hops away and Buster steps protectively in front of her.

‘Get away!’ Mrs Halloway shrieks. ‘How dare you filthy monster come between me and my daughter. Get away this very minute!’

Mrs Leafly steps forward and grabs Deidre’s arm, holding it firmly to keep her from lashing out at Buster.

‘Let her speak, Deidre,’ she says firmly. Mrs Halloway rises up ferociously but Willow’s mother stares her down. ‘Go ahead, Malorie,’ Mrs Leafly says, letting go of Deidre’s arm and crouching down to face the small, trembling witch. ‘Tell us what happened in that tunnel. How did you get hurt?’

Malorie takes a deep breath and turns towards her school friend’s mother. ‘My mother sent me in there. She was too afraid to go in herself! She gave me her wand and told me to go into the tunnel and do a spell to trap Buster, because she said he is dangerous. But it’s Just. Not. True,’ she says, her face crumpling.

Mrs Leafly puts her arm around Malorie.

‘Buster should have left me in there, but instead he saved me!’ Malorie says. ‘He carried me out on his own back. Buster has never hurt anyone.’ Malorie begins to sob. ‘Polly is right. My mother made it all up. All of it. Even the stuff in the newspapers and what happened in the gallery. I should never have listened to her.’

The witches’ eyes widen and their mouths drop open in shock.

‘She’s lying!’ Mrs Halloway screeches. ‘The nasty little grommet is lying. It’s that horrible Polly who’s put her up to this, I’ll bet.’ She grabs Malorie’s arm and tries to pull her away.

‘No!’ says Malorie firmly. ‘I’m not coming with you.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ says Mrs Halloway, pulling even harder. ‘You’re my daughter. You’ll do as I tell you.’

‘Deidre Halloway!’ comes a voice from among the trees. ‘That’s enough!’

Polly looks up in shock to see Miss Spinnaker step out of the dark forest, broomstick in hand. Her cheeks are flushed and her hair is wild and curly from the ride. She glares at the huddle of witches around the mouth of the mine, shuffling uncomfortably among themselves, embarrassed to be caught up in such a terrible situation.

Then, to Polly’s utter surprise, another witch walks out of the trees to stand beside Miss Spinnaker. Polly gasps when she recognises who it is. She has never met this witch before, only seen her portrait in the hallway at school, but she knows instantly who Miss Spinnaker has brought with her.

Not for the first time, Polly is filled with love and admiration for her clever teacher, who always knows what to do and just the right way to do it. For, standing beside Miss Spinnaker, a look of calm fury on her face, is Blackmoon Coven’s very own Mayor Redwolf.